Scenic, but not secure

Drugs and immigration woes are hurting parks along the border

THE Rio Grande, whose sharp turn gives Big Bend National Park its name, is little more than a muddy creek these days. Drought and irrigation have sapped its strength. Deep canyons enclose the river at several spots, but Mexicans can still easily cross over. Plenty do so, illegally. Last year 1,160 people were caught in the park, which—together with an adjacent “wild and scenic” river area—stretches for 245 miles (395km), or about one-fifth of Texas's border with Mexico. More than 23,000lb (10,433kg) of marijuana were seized in the park, too—a huge jump from the previous year, though no one quite knows why. Seizures have since fallen back to their previous levels again.

Visitors to Big Bend are more likely to see herds of pig-like javelinas than illegal human activity. But at border parks across America smuggling is a huge headache. Rangers must worry not only about rescuing lost hikers and conserving nature, but also about security. Elsewhere in Texas, officials at Padre Island National Seashore, working with the Coast Guard and other agencies, seize about 25,000lb of marijuana each year from incoming boats.

The worst-hit place is Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Arizona, which is part of the parks system. In 2002 a young ranger on patrol there was killed by drug dealers. Last year the Park Service arrested 1,300 people for illegal activity and nabbed 17,000lb of marijuana. The Border Patrol arrested another 6,500 people on the park's land, and impounded more drugs. Rangers spend most of their time on security issues, says Kathy Billings, the park superintendent—and the traffic has created a “spiderweb” of illegal trails, not to mention rubbish, that damage the fragile landscape.

The good news is that the very features that distinguish parks—rugged terrain, glaciers, rushing water, a lack of roads—usually obstruct smugglers. But even the mountainous parks bordering Canada have their troubles. North Cascades National Park, in the north-west, may be the only park in America to have captured someone who tried to carry out a terrorist plot. Abu Mezer, a Palestinian, was arrested in 1996 in North Cascades and was sent back to Canada. After trying several more times to enter America, he was arrested in New York City in 1997 in connection with a plot to bomb the subway.

Nowadays, at North Cascades as elsewhere near Canada, the main problem is drugs. Immigration and customs officials recently announced that a joint operation with Canadian Mounties, Operation Frozen Timber, had confiscated 8,000lb of marijuana and 800lb of cocaine in and around the park since 2004. The smugglers were using helicopters to drop marijuana into North Cascades and the nearby national forests; the cocaine was mostly going the other way, into Canada.

To the east, in Glacier National Park, there have been a few documented cases of illegal cross-border traffic—though the mountains, cliffs and grizzlies act as a deterrent, says Patrick Suddath, a ranger. Glacier allows boats from its sister park in Canada to enter at a scenic spot called Goat Haunt, but only Canadians and Americans with the proper documents may venture beyond the ranger station.

Border tightening has also changed the way of life in some parks. In the old days at Big Bend, Mexican villagers would routinely cross the border to sell their wares and to buy milk and petrol from park stores. American tourists also liked to venture over to the Mexican side for a tortilla or cerveza; Mexicans provided transport in the form of boats and burros. But all crossings at Big Bend were closed in 2002. A petrol station in Big Bend's Rio Grande village promptly lost 75% of its revenue, and the Mexicans let their newly unemployed burros loose, resulting in a burro explosion. The park makes an exception now only for 40 or so Mexican firemen, who are on standby for summer blazes.

Parks must also keep wildlife in mind, since bears and elk do not pause for borders. Just last month Organ Pipe completed a vehicle barrier that is supposed to stop cars but allow the endangered Sonoran pronghorn, a type of antelope, to slip underneath. At Big Bend officials are circumspect about proposals in Congress to erect a fence across parts of the southern border, though their own park is not included in current bills. “You would not have any desire to build a fence on top of a 1,500-foot escarpment,” says David Elkowitz, the park's interpretation chief. Even without a fence, dreams of creating an international park along the border, joining Mexican and American land, seem permanently on hold.